Life Happens Over Coffee

“One of life’s quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly become the author of something beautiful.” Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

Until today, I almost forgot how much I enjoy going to Starbucks and sitting with a cup of coffee and spending time by myself. Of course some of my favorite memories have been made at Starbucks with close friends – having a conversation over coffee, sharing our lives together, and exploring what it means to be human. I can point to countless cups of coffee that forever echo in my heart what it means to be in deep relationship with one another and what it means to look towards becoming the most authentic person we can become.

Yet, I also enjoy another side of Starbucks, the side I explored today by myself. The other Starbucks experience, sitting alone in a chair, sipping a cup of coffee, exploring my own self through a great book, through writing a letter to a friend, or through gazing out the window letting my thoughts float out the window and up to God. It is a break from life, a chance to reflect, and as Norman Maclean writes in A River Runs Through It, a chance to “watch yourself softly become the author of something beautiful.”

Balancing living in community and taking time for one’s self is a challenge. However, learning about this balance has helped me grow and treasure the times alone at Starbucks. I have found a connection with the Dupont Circle Starbucks, with the room of windows looking into the Circle. Sitting, sipping my bold coffee and reading A River Runs Through It today, I was captivated and taken not just to Missoula MT, but into myself. Perhaps in a way I haven’t had for a while, I stepped apart from my own life looked back into myself. In those moments, as I sat, sipping my coffee and journeying with Norman and Paul, I too was journeying with myself. I feel refreshed, ready for another week at Bread for the City.

Perhaps I shouldn’t wait so long to have another coffee by myself at Starbucks.

Two Different Washingtons

Last weekend, a high school friend of mine visited Washington with a couple of his college friends. The friends from college had never been to D.C. before, and as they are all Political Science majors, excitement radiated out of them. Travelling around Washington together, looking at the National Mall, the Monuments, the White House... I watched their education become personified as they recited Supreme Court cases, recounted stories of presidential blunders, and gossiped about various Congressional leaders. It was as if I was stepping into Disneyland... the Political Science major version.

I sometimes forget about this Washington. While my JVC house is active in exploring the city, seeing the Smithsonian museums, biking around the trails that outline the city, and walking the streets exploring the neighborhoods, sometimes I forget that this Washington is the same Washington that has been debating health care for many months now... it is the same Washington that houses the United States' leaders... it is the Washington of tourism, of monuments and memorials, of Congress and of the Supreme Court.

I think this is why the comments of the Political Science majors caught me so off-guard last week. Granted, when I originally came to Washington, D.C., this Washington was the Washington I knew and cannot fault their excitement. Yet, when one kept saying how exciting they were to be there and they wanted to return because of the great things happening nationally, I couldn't help but become a little sensitive and protective of Washington.

The Washington I now know is the Washington of Bread for the City... it is the Washington of the Fair Budget Coalition... the Washington of the $500 million budget deficit... the Washington of Shaw and LeDroit Park and Glover Park and Anacostia... the Washington of my clients.

It is a Washington of increasing inequality. The DC Fiscal Policy Institute recently released a report showing nearly 1 in 5 Washington residents now live in poverty. 11,000 district residents fell into poverty this past year, making the total number of residents in poverty to be 106,500. And... this figure is the federal poverty line, which means that many more District residents continue to struggle each month; they just aren't the official federal poverty level. It's also striking to note that the District's average income for Caucasian residents was $101,000 in 2008 while only $39,000 for African Americans.

The D.C. my friend and his college friends saw is a real Washington. It is a place that most see when they come to D.C., and it's unfair for me to judge their experience as naive or superficial. Yet, it's not the D.C. I see each day. The D.C. I see each day is a D.C. of increasing inequality and poverty. But, the D.C. I see is also one of advocates and clients joining hands to make an impact of poverty, both out on a client level and a social justice level. This D.C. is what keeps me inspired to continue doing the work I do each day. It is the D.C. that continues to help me explore my vocation and look towards making a positive impact on society.

To view the article written by Jenny Reed, DCPFI Policy Analyst, click here.

Reflections with Fr. Greg Boyle

My experiences travelling to East LA during college, both my sophomore and senior years, were places of some of the greatest growth. Being present in the community, attending Mass and Stations of the Cross, staying with Rosa and her family, and working in the Dolores Mission School helped shape my understanding of what it means to be in accompaniment with others.

Last night, we had the opportunity of seeing Fr. Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries speaking on his new book, Tattoos on the Heart*. Many of the stories Fr. Greg shared were stories I had heard before. Yet sitting there, listening again, I was reminded of my own experience in East LA, and the many things he has said that have touched me.





“Long lay the world
In sin and error pinning
Till He appeared
And the soul felt its worth”

In multiple occasions, Fr. Greg has brought up this quote from the popular Christmas Carol, O Holy Night. He explains that while this quote is literally about the birth of Jesus, it should also be about our interactions with each person we meet. Isn’t that how it should be, that the soul feels its worth when we interact with someone?

Moving to another though, he discusses his vision of kinship – seeing a world that is “no longer us and them, but just us.” Just us – without divisions, without seeing others as the outsider or the inferior person, but as seeing all as full of worth and value.

I was first drawn to think about the people of East LA when hearing his comments. After all, the context of his words are about the gang members he works with each day. The images in my mind are of the streets near the Dolores Mission, of having lunch with Chino at Homeboy Industries, of talking with Rosa in her home…

Yet in another sense, I think about my own experience here at Bread for the City - aside from the service experiences in college like travelling to East LA, I can't really say I've spent long periods of time working with those who are low-income. Here I find myself deepening my understanding of "no longer us and them, but just us." Of course, there are still divisions. I return to my JVC house where we have enough money and don't have to worry about meals or paying our bills. Yes, we are living without many luxuries of society, but we are still comfortable. In many ways, my stipend is more than enough.

In other ways though, I still debate this us and them idea. Yes, it's true - I live in the potentially the same neighborhood as my clients, we shop at the same grocery store, and I interact with clients and walk-in individuals each day. I sit with them and listen to their story and try and give them some information. I work with my SSI clients so that together we can ensure they receive the benefits they are entitled to.

I think there are still many differences and I continue to think about them and reflect on them. I am still trying to grapple with this idea of living in solidarity and kinship with those I am working with. It is true that in one way, I'll continue to live my life the way I raised - still interesting in things such as the Smithsonians and getting a glass of wine at Vinoteca or cup of coffee at Starbucks... in other ways though, I think I am a few steps closer to understanding what Fr, Greg is talking about when he asks us to begin building kinship.


*100% of the proceeds from Fr. Greg's new book, Tattoos on the Heart, return to Homeboy Industries to support the continued efforts to help give hope to the gang members of Los Angeles. To learn more about the book, please click here.

Clybourne Park

Since coming to the District of Columbia, I have been fascinated with this idea of gentrification. How can we let development occur without raising property values so high that tenants are displaced? How do we help rejuvenate neighborhoods in the District without forcing tenants to move or without changing the character of the neighborhood?

These questions and more have been on the forefront of my questions since coming to D.C. To deepen my understanding of gentrification, I recently attended the play, Clybourne Park, at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre, here in D.C. Gaining its inspiration from the play, A Raisin in the Sand, the play explored heavy concepts of race in the United States. The first began in 1959, in a beautiful bungalow, with a white family moving out of their Chicago neighborhood. Their neighbors were furious to find out that an African American family was moving into the neighborhood; their fear, based out of racism, fueled the belief that their community would deteriorate as soon, more African American families would move into the neighborhood. In an emotionally charged act, I felt the real experience of both Caucasian and African American families struggling with the realities of both individual prejudice and institutional racism.

The first act closes and the second act opens; the home is the same bungalow, but it is no longer beautiful. The wood panelling is gone. The floor has patches of discolored hardwood floor which has been replaced. The light fixtures are gone. The home is in decrepit shape. Now, the tables are turned. The neighborhood is predominately African American and a Caucasian family wants to move into the home. Living in the city is suddenly glamorous again and this young Caucasian family wants to start their own family in this home. The price are low, and they see an opportunity to demolish the home and build their dream home. The act is equally, if not more, emotionally charged, with both African American and Caucasian Americans powerfully expressing their ties to the neighborhood and their economic interests.

In the end, there is no answer to the gentrification. Repeated in each act is the statement, "Change happens. Some change is good. Too much change is not." It is true - change does happen. It is the reality of life, it is the reality of neighborhoods. It is what happened to the District of Columbia, and what continues to happen as new families move in and out of the District, as wealth allows development to happen... in some ways it cannot be stopped.

But in other ways - I think about the African American families in the play who are displaced and who watch their neighborhood change due to the economic interests of the wealthy re-emerging into the city. It is the same picture we are observing here in the District of Columbia. The juxtaposition of the Caucasian family leaving in 1959 while a new one returns in 2009 is a powerful statement to the continued effects of past racism and current inequality.

The play continues to stretch my mind and ask, how can positive development happen? I suppose in many ways, I too am like the Caucasian family of 2009, wanting to move back into the glamorous city, wanting to capture the "good deal."

Gentrification is a topic I am continually interested in. I have no answers from the play. But I will continue to search for answers on how we can make development and tenant preservation both priorities in our cities today.

The Inequalities of Landlord Tenant Court

Last Friday, Eli and I decided to go to Landlord Tenant Court to see our Bread attorneys in action and to help if there was anything the attorneys needed assistance on. As I sat in the court waiting during roll call, and throughout the day, I was struck by many images of inequality that became immediately apparent. It has been a few days now and yet, I have continued to reflect on these images...



I noticed that the courtroom was full, mainly of African Americans. Yes, it's true - D.C. is still a African American dominated city, so perhaps that is what one would expect. Yet, I saw few men and women of other races; those who were white appeared immediately to be attorneys. As it turned out during roll call, most of the white people either worked as landlord attorney's or were Bread for the City attorneys defending the tenants. I am not usually one to point to racism as ever present in American society, but it seemed clear at that moment that white people in the District tend to own their homes, leaving many (but not all) African Americans as tenants. Here in the nation's capital... even here race continues to separate us into different categories.



Most landlords have attorneys to be present for them at the actual L/T proceeding. Thus landlords are able to continue with their business while the attorneys represent them. And, when listening closely, it became clear that most landlords were represented by just a few attorneys while the majority of tenants stood there without any sort of protection or knowledge of their rights. There were a handful of tenants represented by attorneys - mostly Bread for the City attorneys.

While the landlords have attorneys present for them in the court, tenants do not, and thus, must come to their court date, unsure of what is going to happen. Their fate looks like it is heading towards eviction. The judge tells them during roll call that they might have to stay as long as 5 pm to ensure their case gets heard. I'm guessing most of the low-income tenants I observed at Landlord Tenant court are on hourly jobs, not salaried, and face loss of wages for the day as well, further depleting them of resources needed for their families.

These were my initial observations into the disparity at L/T court. A light shining, though, offsets at least some of the inequities. DC Law students in court are able to jump in and help some tenants each day. The Landlord Tenant resource center gives information to tenants each morning and helps tenants fill out paperwork. The Attorney of the Day project helps provide representation to tenants who are income eligible. And of course, there are great attorneys like Rebecca, Vytas, Skip, Julia, and Jenny, who protect the rights of tenants through their direct client representation and advocacy efforts.

I guess I see inequality each and every day at Bread for the City. I didn't expect it to be this easy to spot at Landlord Tenant Court. But at least I an count on attorneys like ours here to help ensure some tenants have fair access to justice.

Balancing Service and Advocacy

The balance between service and advocacy is something I have been trying to grapple with, especially in the Legal Clinic this year. In many ways, I am drawn to the advocacy level. My mind is constantly on the macro level – thinking of ways to solve systemic problems and enact structural change. Working at Bread for the City this year has been a blessing because it has forced me to look at poverty in the lens of real people, real experiences. Poverty isn’t just a structural issue – it is a real problem that affects people who walk into Bread for the City each day.

Because I experience real people each day - sit with them, listen to their story, and try and be present in their life journey, it has been a challenge trying to also balance advocacy type efforts. I know that in many ways, I cannot do the advocacy work without knowing real people who will be impacted. But I also know that the advocacy work must be done, to ensure that the structures of society are not kept unequal and unfair. And… this advocacy work is something I am interested in and want to continue to pursue.

Working on the Fair Budget Coalition and the SE Preservation Project has been great experiences of advocacy for me this year. Learning about the D.C. budget and working in the Housing group has helped me grow in my understanding of what is needed for fair and affordable housing. Working on the SE Preservation Project has helped me dive into Gentrification in a practical and applied way. I am tempted to make these projects more of my work each day. I find myself going to meetings, talking about ideas, collaborating with others in the community… these projects make me excited and ignite my passion for structural change.

Yet I am learning I must balance these efforts. I must decide what is important for me to work on, and how I can still be present each day at Bread. If I am not intentional on this advocacy work, there will more and more gaps of time for clients to see legal assistance when they walk in. Sure, it’s true… we’re technically only officially open Mondays 1-3 pm for walk-in clients to get assistance from attorneys. Yet the on-call system we have each day helps ensure that simple referrals can be given to clients, and simple questions can be answered, meeting their needs more efficiently. I think of Ms. D., whom I helped this morning. If I had decided to go to the budget meeting this morning, no one would have been able to answer her Social Security question and she would have continued to be discouraged and frustrated with SSA’s overpayment mistake. Because I was here, we looked into her issue, found some information, and she left with at least a little hope in the overpayment problem.

So then I think after today – after taking many calls and walk-ins, I still have no explicit answer to the balance. Over this next year and a half, I will continue to try and be intentional about my service and advocacy efforts. Hopefully, by making intentionality a priority, I’ll be able to make the most good for both efforts and will in turn, find both my needs and the needs of Bread clients are met each day. That is my continued challenge for this next year and a half.

The Woman at the Well

For many reasons, Lent is my favorite season in the church calendar. Growing up, I would look forward to the different songs that we would sing in Lent. Most specifically, Lent was marked musically by the coming of “Create in Me,” Psalm 51, which we would sing each Sunday after the first reading. But I think there are many reasons I love the liturgical season of Lent. One of them is the depth of the readings of Lent.

In Exodus today, Moses felt helpless at the grumbling of the people whose thirst was not quenched in the desert. How often I feel a similar feeling to Moses each day at work, when I cannot provide the legal help people are needing – I cannot quench their thirst for justice and fairness, but can at least try to provide dignity in the process. In the story today, Moses turns to God, cries out for help, and God provides a spring of water. He quenches their thirst and restores faith in the people. It is a good reminder to me that I must trust God in times of need and continue to give what I can to the clients of Bread for the City.

I love when the Church echoes a message from the Old Testament to the Gospel reading in Mass. Today’s Gospel was from John – Jesus meets the woman at the well in Samaria. It is a Gospel story that captivates me each time I hear it. Jesus speaks with the woman, asking for a cup of water. He in turn tells her he alone can quench her thirst… he is the living water. He is more than the spring of water God provided Moses and the people in the desert, for as he says, that water leaves one thirsty for more. The woman’s life is transformed because she experiences this living water. She leaves to tell all in the town because she realizes Jesus knows “everything that she has ever done” and truly is that living water. It is a story that continues to give me comfort and connects me, especially in times of desolation.

When I think of this story, I imagine a well, outside the city limits. I see the woman come up to the well. There is a slight wind and it picks up sand and carries it across the desert. Looking away from the city, all one can see is sand, sand for many miles, sand stretching far past the well. There is Jesus sitting at the well, without his bucket. He is waiting for the conversation with the woman.

I think what I like about the Lenten stories is that they take me on a journey with Jesus. As he prepares for his death, his encounters with people become so authentic. The story of the woman at the well is more than a sermon or a physical healing. Rather, in his authentic conversation with the woman, he gives her a healing of the heart and sends her on her way to continue to grow and spread his message to others.

Christ in the Heart of Bread for the City SSI Clients

These past couple weeks have been full of SSI/SSDI work. As soon as Mr. R’s hearing concluded, my mind switched to two cases that are scheduled to for hearing on March 11th. Together with my boss and the clients, I have been doing the same as for Mr. R – finalizing my understanding of the medical records, writing a brief for the judge, submitting all pertinent evidence, explaining the process to my clients, and making sure everything else is ready.

In the process, I have met with my boss, Vytas, to comprehensively make sure I am ready to represent these clients. During our case review on Monday, Vytas made a comment about a movie his daughter and he had watched the previous weekend. One of the characters in the movie was clearly crippled – an image we can conjure in our minds: a man in a walker… an woman limping across the street with large thick glasses… the images are all too familiar here in my neighborhood and at Bread for the City. Yet Vytas explained a twist in the story – it was later revealed that this disabled character was actually an important powerful Greek god, in the disguise of a disabled person. Perhaps initial encounters and judgments don’t offer a full understanding. How differently might others have treated this disabled person if he appeared as a Greek god?

I was struck by this story because of its parallel to what my Catholic faith calls me to see – Christ in the heart of the poor. Reflecting on a commonly discussed passage from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus asks us to turn to the poor, the “least brothers of mine” and to serve them – to give them food and drink, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the ill and imprisoned (Matthew 25: 33-46).

I have been thinking about this moment with Vytas since Monday and have been drawn back to this passage. While I have been praying for my SSI clients and their hearings, especially as they draw near, I often forget to slow down and reflect on the work I am doing. It has been a couple of days since that meeting, and I continue to return to that meeting with Vytas. Working for a place like Bread for the City provides daily experiences for me to experience Christ – perhaps if I slow down and look more closely into the heart of each client of Bread for the City, Jesus will become more present in the conversations I have each day.